


fire in his arms

by resurrectedhippo



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: 1872 (Marvel), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tony Stark, Fix-It, Gunplay, Guns, Just porn really with a dash of angst, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Porn with Feelings, Ride a Cowboy, Rimming, Wild wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectedhippo/pseuds/resurrectedhippo
Summary: Steve rocks forward, bringing the revolver up and inches away from Tony’s face. “You give me the gun and trust me enough not to shoot.”“I’ve already said that I’m a fool,” Tony whispers, hands going to rub at his cock.“None of that now,” Steve commands, bare feet lightly kicking the top of Tony’s knees. “Focus on me. Listen to what I say to you.”Steve settles the gun on his forehead.Tony thinks that love is a bit like that.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 89
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020





	fire in his arms

**Author's Note:**

> Me: This is fluff.  
> Also me: Gunplay! 
> 
> This is my fill for the prompt "Object Insertion" for Kinktober.  
>   
> Thank you to [Alpine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_umbra_gratia) for the beta. <3

The silver badge shines on Steve’s chest. It’s new. 

When Steve returned from Strange's healing community in Savage Mountain, Red Wolf insisted that Steve take back the badge. Steve, decent and admirable, shook his head, gave Red Wolf a gun, and called him Sheriff.

The star doesn't bind him to the job. Steve's always been an honorable man. Tony almost hates him for it. But well, Tony's always had a strong reaction whenever it came to Steve.

Tony melts the materials for the badge, crafts it, and has Carol Danvers approve the words Deputy Sheriff. 

He smiles, shifting on the seat, but keeping his fingers steady on the piano keys. “What’s next, Sheriff?”

“I’m _Deputy Sheriff_ now, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, you’re too humble. You should have taken your mantle back.” Tony’s fingers tweedle on the last couple of keys, finishing Liebestraum No. 3.

“I’m fine here, Mr. Stark.” Steve sits on the French settee, bare feet cross on the cream-colored ottoman. If it's anyone else, Tony would have booted them out of his home, but this is Steve, and he looks like he belongs here, amongst all of Tony's wild metals, his hodgepodge of books, and imported candleholders. 

Tony twists, sitting up fully to watch Steve. He looks alive—he _is_ alive, whole and maybe, Tony’s.

Some evenings, Tony lies in bed, eyes tracing the patterns of freckles on Steve’s back. Sometimes, Tony’s brave enough to trail his fingers on the constellations that can be found all along Steve’s shoulders and arms. Tony breathes, heart heavy with want.

When he was drinking himself stupid, his memory was fuzzy, a nebulous montage of images. But one thing has always been as clear as Attilan-by-the-Sea, Steven Rogers is a good man, and Anthony Stark is fond of him.

Steve's hair is longer, perhaps a little too long for a professional man upholding the law, but he's clean shaven and the red scarf necktie sits like seduction personified, on the column of his throat. One day, he’ll give Steve a bolo tie, with vibranium tipped coils and a jaded pendant. 

“I do have one request. How about your arrangement of Danny Boy?” Steve gives him a small smile, almost shy. There’s no reason for sheepishness, not after everything now. There’s a patch of hair curling behind Steve’s ears. Tony had the urge to stand and push it back, twirl Steve's lock around his finger tips.

He stays put, shifting his feet until the floors creak. “Well, who am I to deny you anything you want?” Tony makes a show of flexing his wrists in circles, then resumes his performance.

“Sing too. For me, if you want.” Steve says, burrowing further into the settee, abandoning the completed Irish poetry book to stare at Tony. “I sure do love hearing you hit those harmonies, even when you’re so drunk you can’t see straight.” 

He will never tire of those pale blue eyes. Back in the day, Tony couldn't stand Steve's gaze, especially not when he had stood over Tony's sluggish body, twisting his lips in a grimace when Tony couldn't respond due to his drunk-addled brain.

“Would you like that?” Tony hums, wishing he took off his vest off along with his overcoat earlier. But no matter, his tie is loose and he shrugs off the vest so he’s left in his dress shirt. 

“That would please me, yes.” Steve nods, taking off his gloves in a slow motion, almost as if he’s giving Tony a performance himself. Isn’t that just the case? Tony’s supposed to be the entertainment and yet, he’s the audience, holding onto Steve's every word.

Perhaps, that’s what happens when you think you’ve lost the one thing that kept you from blowing your brain out. Funny, though, drinking was just slow ingested poison, Tony wasn’t a man, or even half a person when drowning himself in the bottle. 

It takes Steve getting shot for Tony to stop self-medicating. Alcohol can’t appease grief, especially as Steve’s bloody body was fed to the pigs.

Thank the gods for Happy Hogan battling off the wild boars and dragging Steve’s body out of the pen while Fisk and his hired guns were distracted by Tony’s shouting and uncoordinated shots at Bullseye. Hogan had taken his father’s carriage and sped off to the Savage Mountain for Strange’s abode.

Somehow, Steve doesn’t bleed to death on the ride, and isn’t that just Mr. Steven Grant Rogers to defy nature herself? Tony still can’t believe that the scientist, Erskine experimented on Steve. Erskine was having tea with Strange, exchanging notes on a medical experiment, when Happy Hogan came rushing through the doors.

Erskine, soft-spoken and meticulous, hangs around Savage Mountain because the common folk at Timely confuse his worldly curiosity with being a mad hack. Tony still isn’t sold on the medical experiment that saved Steve’s life. But one is told they cannot bite the fingers that feed their mouths.

Still, since Steve’s return, he’s strong, healthier. His mouth no longer smells like tobacco and there’s a brightness to him that wasn’t there before. As a man upholding the law, Steve’s always been fit, and Tony prides himself in learning all things about Steve Rogers. He catalogued the width of his shoulders, the shape of his back, the slope of his thighs. Tony is intimately familiar with it. But he can’t help look at Steve, gaze at this unharmed body that doesn’t have a scar from where the bullet shot his back.

It cannot be true. There should be scar tissue. Even if Strange is a self-proclaimed medical genius, there has to be evidence of the blunt force of a navy pistol. It’s Colt made, not Stark’s. 

He looks at Steve and sees a man he’d do anything for. Yet, there’s Steve, but something different about him. It does not please Tony to know there’s something about Steve Rogers that he cannot name. It isn’t a frightening difference, no, it’s barely there at all. His eyes are still clear, blue, and honest. The smile he wears is unadulterated, still bashful, though he has no reason to feel shy. Not around Tony.

It still pulls at his heartstrings when Steve ducks his head and meets his eyes. 

“You should know I’ll do anything to please you, Sheriff.” 

“Told you to kick the bottle long ago, but…” Steve lips twist into a line, and it’s rather resigned, a fishhook reeling at older wounds, aged conversations from long ago.

“That was then, this is now.” Tony says, “Maybe it takes the end of the world, rock bottom, for me to finally realize. I apologize that it took me so long.”

“You told me once, time is relative. I’d wait forever for you to get your head out of your ass, if I had to Stark.”

“Well, Rogers, keep talking like that, and I might as well call this love.”

“Isn’t it?” Steve raises an eyebrow, waiting for Tony to bite. 

And he does. “It is.”

“Play the damned song, Stark.” Steve’s hands go to rest on his belt buckle, the ridges reading US for United States, Steve, so patriotic and rightetous. It's fitting. Tony wishes to mend the belt and change the letters to TS instead. Maybe he can convince Steve to wear it, one of these days, but only in their quarters, of course. 

He lifts his hips, getting more comfortable, and Tony’s eyes catch the glimmer of the Colt revolver with a ten-inch barrel. Stark made. But only for Steve Rogers. 

Tony hits the first key, then the rest follow. He hums at first, getting settled. Drunk out of his ass, he sang outside the station, timing it so that Steve was in the station, feet up on the rickety wooden desk, reports in hand. The best nights were when the oil lamp burned low and there were no other men locked up in the cell. Steve would invite him over to sober up or walk him home.

Tony couldn’t help it. Steve found his weak points and rather than jab at it and press on the bruise, he caressed it, tutted instead, wrapped Tony up in this gauze pad of care and affection. 

Sometimes, Tony thinks he doesn’t deserve it. 

Steve’s too good, and all good things eventually leave him.

Steve did.

But he returned. 

“Sing, Stark.”

He flashes a smile at Steve, trying to center himself. 

Steve's lapels are crisp, but his sleeves are rolled up his forearms and he's slightly dirty with the day's work. As Deputy, he's still doing the same work he's done as Sheriff, but ceding the authority of the position to Red Wolf. Despite the battle with Fisk, Steve refuses to rest. He tours Timely, riding his horse to check the perimeters daily, and still manages to make time for town gossip. 

He can’t stand to look at Steve and let him see—

Tony focuses on the keys, coughing twice, before singing Danny Boy. 

With a bottle of whiskey, he's had the courage to sing the song at the top of his lungs, hoping like hell Steve would pay attention. The dames have told him, and damn, doesn't feel like a century ago, that he had a nice baritone voice. Yeah, yeah, Starks are genius and excel at most of the arts, be it mathematics or literature. His mother, a governess before her marriage to the late Howard Stark, taught him well. 

Tony sings, choking on the words. Not so cocky now. 

The last time he uttered these damn words was the day Steve was shot. 

Tony closes his eyes. The women of the town accost him. 

_Stop Stark, they’ll kill you too. ___

__Tony was drunk then, but he thinks he said, _So be it.__ _

__If Steve is dead, there’s no goddamn point in living._ _

___We’re all damned._ _ _

__Steve is alive, real. Tony can put his hands around him and feel his arm flesh._ _

__The song goes on. His arrangement is slow and ends in the way one finishes something they do not want to part with. He would stay in that moment, fingers clicking the keys, Steve’s eyes on him. It’s just them. There’s nothing else in the world. Not the river or the howl of the train in the morning. No boisterous hackling in the Courthouse or the County Clerk's. No responsibility of opening Stark Industries and trying to shift away from the Stark Enterprises legacy and carve out a new name for himself._ _

__The best decisions he’s made is purchasing the three story flat above the Sheriff’s office after the fiasco with Fisk. His ground-level workshop across the street just had enough space for his suits. Tony needed an actual apartment to live in. He was so used to sleeping on the workshop’s floor, he didn’t realize how much it hurt his back. Alcohol numbed his nerves. But now Tony’s sober and had his furniture from the Stark mansion imported into Timely._ _

__His mother’s collection of silk sheets cover his goosefeather pillows and the fine china from the East is used for afternoon tea. Steve is much better at brewing the leaves and it trips him up to see Steve fetch the tea set every morning. Some mornings, he thinks he needs to go see a doctor because when Steve rolls out of bed, fixes up breakfast, Steve looks happy._ _

__He does._ _

__Dawn always comes._ _

__Somehow, they both get ready for the day after exchanging slow kisses over ranch beans and toast. Steve puts on his belt, checks the safety of his gun, and shoves it into the sleeve. Tony rises, manic with ideas for the suit, and puts his loosely fit workshop overalls on, bidding Steve goodbye._ _

__Steve stays, and sometimes Tony has the view of him from the workshop’s open doors, walking around town or tending to his horse, America. Because of course, he’d name his horse after his country._ _

__Tony returns home, knocking on the Sheriff station’s window before climbing the flights of stairs to his flat. Steve joins him after completing his reports._ _

__Life is a little better with Steve around._ _

__It’s a cycle that continues on and on, like a wheelbarrow spinning along the rocky mountains._ _

__He feels rather than hear Steve get up and walk over from the settee._ _

__There’s a hand on his shoulder, blistered, a working man’s hand. The callus on the index speaks to having it on the trigger. But Tony knows that Steve only pulls when necessary. When there’s no other choice._ _

__It’s easy to fall in love with an admirable man. Tony finds that Steve is easy to love. It shouldn’t be that way. But it is._ _

__There's nothing else for it. There's something honorable about Rogers, especially with a hand on his lips, holding court in Timely._ _

___Nobody do nuthin’ stupid._ _ _

__Tony begs to differ. Steve’s the stupid one. Dumb enough to get himself killed. Stubborn and righteous in a lawless world, makes a good man lunch for the town’s pigs._ _

__Never again will his vision be blurry. If he stopped drowning himself in the bottle, maybe he could have saved Steve the trip to Strange’s._ _

__Tony presses on a couple of keys, willing his racing thoughts away. He swears by all the gods in the mountains that he’ll be more forthcoming. There is no use in swallowing words that wish to crawl out of his mouth._ _

__Maybe love makes him an honest man. But he can’t help but believe such uninhibited frankness crafts stupid men._ _

__“I mourned you that day. The next, too. For the next two weeks. For the entire time you were gone. It was the blackest days of my life.” Tony says, fingers hovering the first chords to a Franz Schubert piece. The name of the piece is a distant memory, but his fingers remember the direction. Loss is like that, too._ _

__Even now, in Steve’s return, there is the memory of his presumed death and the grief that consumed Tony. Steve spent a fortnight under Strange’s and Erskine’s care. But it felt like the days in Timely were slow moving. Only the thirst of vengeance served a motivating factor to get his ass up in the mornings._ _

__“I didn’t even drink. I couldn’t, not when I knew I was still buzzed and couldn’t walk straight and shoot to save you. I was too late, Steve.”_ _

__Steve’s hand goes from his shoulders to the back of his neck. He cards his fingers through Tony’s hair. The gesture is kind; Tony didn’t think he could have this again. But here’s Steve, always proving Tony wrong._ _

__Steve’s breathing softly. Tony feels Steve’s torso along his back. They sit in the quiet, and for once Tony doesn’t try to fill it with some smartass comment about Timely._ _

__The windows are open and the curtains purchased from the South hangs heavy on the hooks. There is the sound of the town preparing for sleep: horses being tended to, shop doors shutting, and the distant sound of the casino. The slight breeze comes in, signaling the end of summer. Soon, fall will come as the calendar flips to the next month. But somehow, it’s an endless summer in Timely. The quality of life in the frontier. They say that the West is wild, has been infested with corrupt men like Fisk, but the townsfolk of Timely are good people._ _

__They’re a bunch of gossips, though. That’s the life in a village, everyone knows each other’s business and must have slept with each other at least once, even if they swear to the rosary that their blood is pure._ _

__But Steve. There’s only ever been that one woman who passed through town. Margaret Carter, but even then, Tony doubts that Steve is a man interested in a lost weekend. No, Tony thinks that Steve is a man who prefers settling down. A man who wants a sure thing._ _

__Whatever Tony offers him may never be enough, but it’s the best he can do._ _

__Finally, Steve clears his throat, moves to stand by the side of the piano table. Steve grabs his chin, tilts his head up, and says, “You picked up your hammer for me.”_ _

__Tony closes his eyes, remembering how he couldn’t even swallow the swing from the bottle the morning after Steve’s body was gone. Happy Hogan didn’t send word for two weeks, too busy with Strange and Eskrine’s demands to fetch herbs and material from the neighboring encampment. There, on his workshop’s porch, he sat crying, beating himself for his failure to protect Steve. Fucking Stark, always drunk, couldn’t even reach for his gun fast enough._ _

__The vision of the future, courtesy of his own making to suffice his boredom, rewarded him with a fortune._ _

___Don’t waste it. Don’t waste your life._ _ _

__There isn’t a life to waste if there’s no Steve Rogers in this banal, undeserving world._ _

__Tony blinks his eyes open, swallows. The first thing he sees is Steve. His eyes are sharp, but there’s a line between his brows that speak of concern. “Stark...Tony,” adds, voice soft, maybe in awe, “You picked it up again.”_ _

__“I did. For you. You, Steve.” Tony says, hands reaching for Steve’s shoulder. “It was worth it.”_ _

__Tony doesn’t know if he’s proud. The decision to melt his guns didn’t come lightly. He witnessed the Union Army use the Stark repeating rifle to slaughter the South's army. They were there to ask the South to surrender, instead, they were murdered in the name of the nation. It wasn't supposed to be that way. The guns were supposed to protect people, stop the war by winning them back the country, returning it to unison. But Tony knows there's no unity when the rest of the country's inhabitants are slaughtered, stripped off personhood, barred from the guaranteed freedoms of all men and women. No more philistine prejudices are the hands of authority. No more._ _

__Steve’s certainly rubbing off on him. He’ll be by Steve’s side as they defend the rights of men and women all across the West, maybe, throughout the Americas, if that isn’t wishful thinking. At least they had the frontier, a set of horses, and the support of Danvers._ _

__The suit will help ensure this...but for now, it’s nothing but a dream. Steve will make it into reality, no doubt. He can already see Natasha with her daggers, Red Wolf riding on the back of his horse. And Steve—Steve, always, in the front and center, leading them all._ _

__“Thank you. Your word means a lot to me, Tony, in a way no one else’s words will ever measure to.” Steve says, leaning down to touch their foreheads together. He is so close, Tony can smell his breath. It smells like the blend of jasmine tea and lavender. But the rest of Steve is all sweat and leather. Tony will never tire of it._ _

__“You put too much faith in a man who isn’t worthy.” Tony chuckles. He can’t help the self-deprecation, not comfortable or able to respond to Steve’s earnestness. His words sound true. Tony almost believes them._ _

__“I'll choose who to put my faith into.” Steve offers him a small smile, eyes still on Tony like he’s something precious, not a drunk who spent his days falling asleep on the streets._ _

__Steve says a simple line and all is well. It shouldn’t be like that—trusting someone easily, giving them the gun, letting them hold it over your temple, and wishing like hell that it isn’t loaded with a round of bullets. Still, if there’s the choice, he’d sit on his knees and wait to see if Steve pulls. Isn’t that a thought._ _

__“You’re too good, Steve.”_ _

__“Am not,” Steve shakes his head, then swoops down to capture Tony’s lips into a slow kiss. Like molasses. His lips are thick, sweet with the taste of sugar from the tea, and there’s a hint of tobacco deeper into his mouth._ _

__Tony tastes it as their tongues swipe at each other, starting off as a low hum that cascades into quick, aggressive strokes. After a moment, Tony is lost in the act. There’s only _Steve, Steve, Steve,_ who is alive, well, and suddenly too strong. His hand on Tony’s shoulder loosen to grip under his armpits, then he’s pulling Tony up and onto his chest. Steve plants his feet, hosits Tony up, lips still on each other. Steve grabs the back of his thighs, so Tony has no choice put to wrap his legs around Steve. _ _

__That’s another thing, the first evening Steve returned, he swore he was fine, healthier than he’s felt in a long time. When Steve fucked Tony that night, he left a ring of bruises between Tony’s thighs, his arms, and a delicious mark the shape of his fingers on Tony’s neck. Since then, Steve’s been measuring this new found strength, always careful with Tony’s body._ _

__He doesn’t want that. He wants to feel Steve, alive, powerful, inside him. Owning him._ _

__“Then, what sort of man are you?” Tony asks. Maybe it didn’t have to be horribly confrontational. It’s the truth: Tony is a recovering alcoholic and if something awful happened, he might slip down again. Will Steve be there? There's always a preposition; something always has to give._ _

__It's just a matter of time._ _

__But this, this, this, Steve alive, well, and choosing him. Maybe it's only for a moment, just this point in time. Tony will take it. He knows loss. He had a life before Steve, but Tony barely remembers it anymore. Then, there's the horrible loneliness of two weeks grieving Steve._ _

__“The sort that will try to make you happy.” Steve drops him on the ottoman and kicks his knees open. He stands over Tony, hands on his hips. “And Stark, you already make me happy, so I might as well try and give you the same treatment.”_ _

__Tony doesn’t say anything, too lost in the admittance that a man with his history, no matter how much he’s changed, could do anything for Steve. Tony leans against his arms, opens his legs as wide as the trousers allow. He swallows down his desire to strip and waits for Steve’s commands._ _

__Steve undoes the decorative shank buttons of his vest. Each pops off with flourish. He sets the vest on the edge of the settee, dropping it where his gloves lay. Then, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt further up and unbuckles the belt. The US buckle drops with a clang. He takes the gun from the holster and taps it twice on his palm, a study of nonchalance. “Kneel for me.”_ _

__Tony falls to his knees, quick and ungraceful. His mouth waters in expectation._ _

__Steve rocks on his heels, weighing the gun in his hands. “You do anything as I say don’t you, Stark? When it’s here. Anywhere else you run amok. You need to be disciplined.”_ _

__Tony doesn’t deny it. Sometimes he thinks he runs wild, saunters around town and rides his horse drunk so that Steve would arrest him. Fix him. Make him someone worth it._ _

__Steve walks over to him and lifts his head with the barrel of the gun. It’s a thrill for Steve to arm himself with something Tony made. The serial number on the side reads #1._ _

__The first of its kind and the only one in the world._ _

__Tony’s eyes go lopsided looking at the front sight. It’s made of the finest steel in the Americas. The bullets for the revolver are made of soft lead and black powder. He doesn't dare ask if there are bullets. He doesn’t remember Steve unloading it once they returned home, and he isn’t the type to carry an unloaded gun. Even if there were, so what._ _

__Steve putting a bullet to his head might be the best way to die._ _

__Tony smiles, a small thing, and he sees it reflected on Steve's face too._ _

__“You made this for me.” Steve cocks the barrel higher under Tony’s chin, forcing him to stand straighter._ _

__Tony keeps his hands loose to the side of his body even as if he wants nothing more than to pull Steve over, kiss him stupid. “I did.”_ _

__“You picked up your hammer. For me.” Steve has the gun down his throat, using it as an extension of his own fingers. He caresses the side of Tony’s neck, then down to his shoulders, back and forth. “You said you weren’t going to that, ever again.”_ _

__“But it’s you,” Tony replies, body warm and aroused. He wants to crawl and unlace Steve’s pants, pull his dick out. Suck on it. “I did it for you.”_ _

__“You said that.” Steve drags the gun down to Tony’s sternum, taps it twice. “I’m still in awe. Of you. Of everything you do.”_ _

__“I’m nothing.” Tony bites his lips, feeling his dick throbbing in his pants._ _

__Steve is alive and Tony needs more. He needs to feel Steve. He knows Steve needs to be assured that this is true, that Tony still wants him. He’s always known life is a cycle of madness, a series of lines that culminate into an event that then fizzles out until the next big thing comes along. But this, this thing with Steve, whatever it is, it’s the everyday, the one thing Tony wants and is sure of. It’s so fragile._ _

__“You’re only prejudiced against yourself, Stark.” Steve rocks forward, bringing the revolver up and inches away from Tony’s face. “You give me the gun and trust me enough not to shoot.”_ _

__“I’ve already said that I’m a fool.” Tony whispers, hands going to rub at his cock._ _

__“None of that now,” Steve commands, bare feet lightly kicking the top of Tony’s knees. “Focus on me. Listen to what I say to you.”_ _

__Steve settles the gun on his forehead._ _

__Yes, indeed. Tony thinks that love is a bit like that._ _

__“You’re gonna show me just how much you liked it when you made me this gun. You’ve said before you melted all your weapons as penance. But this—this is something else, isn’t it?” Steve taps the gun on his head. “Answer, please.” His voice hitches as if he’s as desperate as Tony._ _

__“It is. It’s for you, just you.” Tony croaks, eyes cataloguing the dancing lines on the corner of Steve’s mouth. The slight curl, like the U in his buckle. It’s not cruel, but it speaks of power and the authority he has over Tony at this moment._ _

__Steve’s hair is matted and his bangs fall on his forehead. Tony wants to push it back. Maybe later. For now, Tony waits._ _

__“Thank you,” Steve says, voice soft. “You take care of people, you know that? No, don’t shake your head and deny it.” Steve traces his eyebrows with the barrel, then puts it to the side of his cheeks. “You care for people, Stark. You say otherwise, but I know you built the weapons not due to some misplaced family legacy. It’s because you wanted to stop the war.”_ _

__Tony tries to protest, wave him off, but he’s silenced by the hilt of the barrel resting on his mouth. “Hush no, darling. We’ll stop the war talk now. This is about you. You’re a good man. I’ll tell you that everyday for the rest of my life. You helped me. You built this. Shit, I’m truly pleased. It means a lot, Tony.”_ _

___I'd die before I pick up another gun._ _ _

__"I failed on the promise to myself." Tony’s parched, he needs something, water or whatever else Steve’s willing to give him. “But it was worse when I thought I lost you. I had to do something, Steve. The weapon doesn’t matter. It’s the matter of the will of the man who holds the trigger.”_ _

__Steve’s gaze softens for a moment, then it shifts to determination. Tony can see it in the way he straightens and clenches his jaw. “Show me how much you needed me.” Steve draws Tony’s lips apart with the revolver, pulling the lower lip taunt. “Open.”_ _

__There’s a quip on his lips to lighten the mood. _This town is a place where all the crazies live. It must be true, then, if I'm here on my knees for you._ He’s crazy for Steve, that’s well established. But before he can say anything, Steve is pushing the gun into his mouth and Tony has to open wider so the front sight doesn't hit his teeth._ _

__“It’s unloaded,” Steve says, pressing the revolver in and out, in slow and controlled thrusts. “This is just for me as you said. It has my initials on the side. I’ve been thinking about how you carved the three fine letters with those dexterous hands of yours. It makes me happy, Tony, that you think of me. That you made this for me.”_ _

__Steve’s breathing hard, almost as hard as Tony now. Tony wants the barrel to hit the back of his throat. He moans, getting up higher on his knees, trying to take in more. Shit, it might as well be Steve. It’s heavy on his tongue, it’s made of metal after all. It has the pang of taste of iron, coppers, and gun oil. And he doesn’t give a fuck that this gun has shot a bullet in a man’s flesh before. He made it for Steve. And Steve is _using it on him._ _ _

__It’s a weapon of murder and desire. Fitting, Tony almost laughs._ _

__Steve looks at him like he’s something precious and for once, he doesn’t shut his eyes or turn away. He can’t. Steve holds his gaze, his eyes, blue and piercing. “Tony, you’re wonderful, truly. I promise you, we’ll do it all darling. We’ll live a free life. A good life, side by side.”_ _

__Steve shoves the gun deeper into his mouth, and Tony takes it all. His chin is dripping with saliva, but he tries to do his best, sucking hard and deep. He tries to pull off, just for a moment, and Steve ceedes with a concerned question in his eyes._ _

___Too much?_ He doesn’t ask._ _

__Tony shakes his head, smiles a little, then sits back on his heels licks the barrel, keeping his eyes on Steve._ _

__“Oh, Tony,” Steve groans. Tony looks down at the large bulge on Steve's trousers and the way he palms his dick to the rhythm of the gun thrusting into Tony’s mouth._ _

__Yes, this is the sort of savagery they can do._ _

__Tony unzips his pants, pulls it down to the middle of his thighs and fists the base of his cock. He's incredibly hard, so turned on by being at Steve's mercy._ _

__With renewed effort, Tony tongues the extractor rod, licking it in circles like he'd the head of Steve's dick. He gives it small kitten licks, putting his tongue inside in the same place a bullet launches off. He looks at Steve, catches the approval and desire in his jaw-slacked face. It drives Tony forward. He presses a kiss to the bottom, then puts the barrel back in his mouth. It's full of spit, and even with all the cleaning they might do the gun after, there's no way it can be used again for reasons other than the bedroom._ _

__He wants Steve to click. Pull the trigger, just for that fucking rush of defeat. But Steve won't do that. He has an unshaken finger on the trigger and he continues to watch Tony, amused, pleased._ _

__"Your mouth is so red. You look lovely, Mr. Stark.” Steve runs his thumb on the corner of Tony’s mouth, where it’s open and slick with spit. He opens Tony’s lips further with his fingers, then presses the gun to his left cheek. “My darling. Look at you.”_ _

__Tony lets go of his cock. He hasn’t bothered trying to fist it, not wanting to blow his load before, well. He takes both hands, sets it on the gun, feeling for Steve’s fingers. Then, he brings it deeper into his mouth, as much as he can take. Tony sucks and fucks it until his throat is sore. He keeps moaning and moaning, feeling the stickiness on his mustache and chin. He fucks the gun like it’s Steve’s hung cock. The end of the gun hits the back of his throat and he groans, getting harder. It’s debasing and he loves it._ _

__Tony opens his eyes to see that Steve’s pants are down to his shins and he has his cock out now. It’s full, thick, the head drips with precome. The foreskin is pulled back and it looks delicious. The best fucking cock Tony’s ever had. Steve pulls the gun from Tony’s mouth. The sound is wet and crude, immodest for lovers._ _

__Steve breathes heavily. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face and neck. The red scarf calls attention to it and Tony wants to suck a bruise on the vein that runs from his collarbones to his jaw. Steve sets the gun on the coffee table and kicks off his pants. He’s naked from the waist down. If someone were to look through the window, they’d see that Steve still has his shirt on, and they’d never know that Mr. Stark is on his knees for Deputy Sheriff Rogers._ _

__He steps closer, a one hand going to Tony’s jaw, while the other steadies the base of his cock. Steve presses forward so that Tony and lick the slit. He smiles as Tony swallows the head. “Good, darling. Keep going.”_ _

__Tony sucks down to the shaft, until his nose hits the patch of blond curls. Steve rocks his pelvis, making Tony take him deeper. Tony sinks into the motion, ignoring his own cock, and instead licking Steve from root to top. He tongues the head the same way he worshipped the gun earlier, then licks back down to circle Steve’s heavy balls. He takes one hand and puts it on Steve’s thigh, will him to fuck Tony’s face._ _

__“No, nope, Stark. No hands.” Steve pulls away, motion for Tony to put his hands up. A familiar sight, only this time he’s not getting arrested for drunken disorder to public life._ _

__Tony shakes his head, grabs Steve’s hand and puts it to his crown. Steve tuts, amused. “What did I say, Stark? Follow orders, why don’t you?” It should look absurd, but Steve now has his hands on his hips, looking like he’s ready to give a speech, yet his cock is hard, leaking, and wet with Tony’s spit. “You’ll be cuffed if you disobey.” Steve fists the base of his dick, pumps it once, twice. “I reckon that’s what you actually want, isn’t it?”_ _

__“You caught me red handed, Sheriff.” Tony smirks, putting his wrists out for Steve._ _

__Steve chuckles, darkly. “You’ll get your face fucked that way, Stark.”_ _

__“That’s what I was hoping for. Now make my dreams come true.”_ _

__Steve examines him, up and down, and motions for Tony to stand. “I’ll get you out of your damned suit first. Don’t want Mrs. Parker to complain about your laundry and question the spoils.”_ _

__“Ever the good man,” Tony replies, assisting Steve with pulling off his pants. Tony steps out of his trousers, kicks it to the floor, ignoring Steve’s long suffering sigh. Steve unbuttons Tony’s dress shirt, perfunctory. No seduction. It’s not needed. Then, he picks up Tony’s discarded clothes, folds it, and deposits it by his belt._ _

__Steve turns, grabs the handcuffs from his trousers pocket and clasps them on Tony’s wrist. The chains sit heavy and Steve locks it tightly. If Tony struggles, he’ll get burns._ _

__“Shut up, Stark and do what you’re good at. Get on your knees.”_ _

__Tony falls back to his knees quickly, eager. He opens his mouth, wide, groaning as Steve spits on his palm and slicks his cock._ _

__“Open,” Steve says, then he’s fucking Tony’s face, fast and hard. Steve grabs his hair, pulls on it enough to hurt, and Tony’s eyes are stinging, watering. He’s lost to enjoy the sensation of Steve’s heavy cock down his throat. He thrusts quickly, like he’s chasing someone down the streets of Timely. “Look at me, open your eyes.” Steve fucks into him deep, until Tony thinks he can’t take it anymore. He tongues the shaft, groans as Steve pulls out only to slam back in. “I missed those blue eyes in the weeks I was gone. God, Tony, fuck. I missed you, badly.” Steve’s other hand cups the back of his neck, forcing him still as he continues the brutal pace. It’s so fucking good, Tony can hardly breathe and his jaw is hurting but he doesn’t care. Nothing else exists but Steve and the feeling of his cock and the taste of his come. “I’m gonna come inside your mouth and you’ll swallow around my cock, and then, I’ll open you up, and fuck you. I need it, Tony. I need it. I need to feel close to you, god. Tony, darling.”_ _

__Tony tries to keep his eyes open, he really does, but he swallows and gags, and Steve pulls harder on his hair, tugging him up. His eyes roll back. Then, he’s just a hole for Steve to fuck._ _

__Tony relaxes his throat and soon, Steve's entire length thrusts in and out, once, twice, and he holds it there as Tony's mouth works to accommodate him. Tony’s eyes flutter open and he catches the state of utter bliss Steve is in. His mouth is open and he’s groaning, praising Tony, saying he’s a good man, so very good, and how good he is for Steve. Steve’s cock pulses and he’s shooting his come down Tony’s throat. And Tony just takes it all, swallows as much come as he can. It’s a lot, he can’t take it all and some drips down his throat in messy spurts. Steve pulls off, stroking Tony’s hair back._ _

__The arches of Tony’s feet ache from this position, but he doesn’t dare say a word about it. He twists his neck higher, watching Steve milk the rest of his come over Tony’s face. It’s so depraved. Tony opens his mouth, trying to catch the last of Steve’s come. He groans when a drop hits the middle of his tongue._ _

__“Oh, fuck, Stark,” Steve moans, pressing closer to slap his dick on Tony’s open mouth. “Gorgeous, man,” he says, dragging the head of his cock on Tony’s lips, smearing the liquid from the head onto Tony’s mustache._ _

__Tony wants to pull the foreskin back and just suck and tongue the slit, but he’s restrained. “Steve, please, please.” He whines, not knowing what he’s asking for. Steve is still hard and that’s been happening since he got back from Savage Mountain. His refractory period has increased and he comes so much. Tony’s not complaining. He loves the feel of Steve’s come slicking his ass for round two, three, four… they’re both insatiable. For cock and a good fuck, but Tony thinks, for each other too._ _

__Steve smiles at him, pulling his cock away, then he’s holding Tony by the arms and pulling him up._ _

__“There’s nuthin’ lovelier than wanting to please me, Tony. You need this.” Steve presses a kiss on his mouth, and Tony opens up, wanting to show Steve how he tastes inside Tony’s mouth. They exchange a wet, sloppy kiss. Their groans sound obscene and Tony can’t help but remain pliant as Steve maneuvers him back to sit on the ottoman. “So do I,” Steve says, pulling away. He unbuttons the rest of his dress-shirt, tosses it to the settee, without care for folding it._ _

__Tony’s breath hitches. He knows what’s coming next. His cock jumps up as Steve pulls on the red tie hanging from his throat. “I’d like nothing more than to stuff your mouth with this.” He balls it up in a fist. “But I’d really like to hear you tonight.” Steve drops the cotton tie and prowls forward. “Get on your knees. Torso on the ottoman, hands out. I’ll deal with you, Stark.”_ _

__Tony knows this is something they both need. Steve needs to know that Tony is here, no matter what. Someone could have to blow the dam, a volcano could erupt in Savage Mountain, there could be a tsunami in the Attilan Sea, and he’d still wait for Steve on the edges of disaster. There’s no leaving this man._ _

__“Please, do.” Tony gets into position. He drops his head on the plush cushions, hands hanging limply on the edges, and widens his stance. Half of his body is draped on the ottoman and he feels a slight gush of breath on his hole._ _

__“Pretend we’re in prison and I’ve just arrested you for misbehavior.” Steve runs a finger down his crack, then uses both hands to part his cheeks. “Isn’t that why you’d get rowdy at night, disturbing the public, so I could arrest you, cuff you, make you go down your knees, and suck me right there, in the floors of the jail?”_ _

__“Oh god,” Tony sobs as Steve starts a tactical assault on his rim. “Yes.”_ _

__“I ain’t no god, but the comparison is pleasing, Stark.” Steve slaps his ass and it’s hard enough to sting, but Tony knows the smack is controlled._ _

__Steve would never hurt him. He could. Even more so now. The first time they fucked since Steve returned, he left bruises all over Tony’s ass. It was purple and blue by the time Steve realized what he was doing. Tony loved it. It hurt like a bitch, but it was Steve doing it, so of course, it was glorious. Steve observed the bruises with a mix of horror, disgust, and yearning._ _

__“Harder,” Tony pleads, waiting for the slap on his ass. “Please, harder. More”_ _

__Steve tuts, “I’m in charge.” He drops his hand in three quick successions, then caresses the sting with his tongue. He mouths at Tony’s cheeks, then parts them again and dives to plunge at his hole. Steve licks circles on the rim, then presses a thumb to the furl. Tony knows how it must look: his ass is red with the spanking and dripping with Steve’s spit. He wishes for Steve’s come to be there too._ _

__“Steve, Steve, Steve,” Tony chants like a mantra, like a prayer wherein Steve’s name are the only words he knows. “Fuck, please.” Tony sobs, wishing to choke on Steve’s cock, better yet, be choked by Steve. He needs to feel him, deep inside, thrusting in._ _

__Steve sucks the hole, makes a satisfied sound, then pads away, leaving Tony to stay ass up on the ottoman. He returns and pats Tony’s ass once again. Steve’s insatiable._ _

__His index finger plays with the rim, kissing Tony’s ass all the while, cooing, “So good, so good, I can’t wait to be inside, darling. I have missed you. So much. As if the sun stopped shining.” Steve inserts an oil-slicked finger, slow, until his knuckle is in, stretching him for a while before adding another finger._ _

__Tony rocks his ass up, willing to take the digits deeper, demanding for Steve to thrust harder, faster. Suddenly, Steve removes his fingers and slaps Tony’s ass, coating it with oil. “You have to be patient, Stark.” Steve chuckles, the sound is rough and Tony knows he’s not the only one affected by this. “Let me have this, let me.”_ _

__“Alright, yes.” Tony nods, twisting his head back to catch Steve. “Kiss me?”_ _

__Steve smiles, sweet and tender, then leaves forward to give Tony a heart-stopping, filthy kiss. It’s a promise of more. “Behave, Stark, you wouldn’t want to spend another night locked up, would you?” he says, then returns to his post, this time, opening Tony up with three fingers._ _

__“If it's under your care, I wouldn’t mind, Sheriff.” Tony cants his hips higher, meeting Steve’s thrusts. And it goes on, like they’re a seamless machine, Tony fucks Steve’s fingers until Steve relents and hits his prostate. Tony sees stars, and he knows his dick is leaking on the fine ottoman. They won’t be able to remove the stain, and when Mrs. Barnes or Mayor Danvers come over for tea to discuss the latest developments in the mine and Kirby River, they’ll see evidence of their debauchery._ _

__Yes, let them see. Tony belongs to Steve. All of Timely must know._ _

__Steve removes his fingers and Tony whines at the loss of contact. He’s too close to coming untouched. He grits his teeth, shifting forward to rock his dick on the cushions, but the movement is met with a slap on his thighs. “Your pleasure is mine.” Steve puts something on Tony’s rim. It’s cool— it’s not his fingers, it’s not— it’s, _fuck. _Tony groans when Steve rubs the barrell up and down his cheeks, the same way he might do for his cock. He squeezes the gun between Tony’s cheeks, making him feel it’s length. “Say it, Stark.”___ _

____“Yours, yours.” Tony nods, frantic now. Aroused at the thought that Steve’s ripping him to the seams. He _can_ do it—dismantle Tony, strip him apart, until he’s nothing. Until his only thoughts are Steve. It isn’t so different from everyday life outside the bedroom. _ _ _ _

____Steve kisses his lower back, three times, and laughs. “I do like the sound of that.” He presses the revolver’s muzzle on Tony’s hole, presses forward, just a tiny bit. And Tony’s loose from Steve’s fingers so the gun slips forward. He groans, sobs, asking for more. It’s Steve’s gun—the one Tony made for him— and he’s putting it inside Tony, and there’s something savage and sweet about that. There’s this want within him, and all that wanting belongs just to Steve._ _ _ _

____“I did it for you, I made it for you,” Tony says, wrecked. His voice sounds unfamiliar and his throat is raw from how Steve fucked his mouth earlier. Tony twists his head, eyeing the determined set of shoulders and the lines on Steve’s face. He gives Tony an encouraging smile, as if to say, _you can take more._ Steve presses the barrel of the revolver deeper, shifting it so it circles Tony’s insides. _ _ _ _

____He removes it, adds something slick, probably oil, and god, the thought makes Tony’s knees buckle. He knows Steve might never use this gun _SR #1_ again, not for law enforcement. Not after it’s been in Tony’s mouth and ass. But god, what a thought to put a bullet in an outlaw with a gun that has fucked Tony. Has been inside him. He groans, “Steve, Steve, Steve, you’re perfect, thank you, Steve, Steve.” _ _ _ _

____Steve keeps at the pace, drawing the gun in and out, slow, because it’s just like Steve to not want to hurt him. Then, he’s pressing one finger in along with the gun and the burn is glorious. The gun’s barrel is now warm and Steve’s fingers are slick, moving in and out of him. He pulls the barrel until it’s just the muzzle, then Steve bends down to lick his rim just once. Steve takes the gun and there’s the blunt feeling off his cock replacing the gun. “Look at you, just look at you.” Steve rubs the length of his cock on Tony’s crack, making Tony feel how hard he is. “God, I could come like this, Tony. You’re perfect for me. Fuck,” Steve gathers the oil from Tony’s hole and fucks the head of his cock on the rim. Teasing._ _ _ _

____“Please.” Tony tries to push back, trying to get that cock inside him._ _ _ _

____Steve laughs, a hand squeezing his waist to keep Tony still. “I’m going to come on your hole first, darling.” Steve promises, then, he’s rocking the head again and again and Tony can’t fucking take the tease anymore. He groans, both annoyed and pleased that his hands are restrained. He wants to pull Steve over, tug his hair and kiss his mouth stupid. “I’m going to make your hole nice and wet with come, then I’ll fuck it inside you, would you like that?”_ _ _ _

____Tony gives up trying to turn and aim for a kiss. Instead, he lets Steve assault his messy hole, a mix of spit and oil. Steve leans away. He’s groaning, and there’s the sound of him fisting his cock over Tony’s body. “God, look at you, you’re so gorgeous, darling. Everything you do, I’m always proud. You’re always good.” Steve spurts forward, aiming his load on Tony’s ass. The warm come hits his rim and lower back. Tony feels it drip down his crack and thighs._ _ _ _

____“Steve, please fuck me, please.” Tony tries to move, but it’s useless, Steve has him trapped on the ottoman. He rubs the come from Tony’s ass down to his balls. “Fuck, Steve, I need you, I need you inside me. Let me feel you.”_ _ _ _

____Steve uses his own slick to fuck his fingers inside Tony. Then, with a satisfied groan, he stands, and drops in front of Tony. Steve lifts Tony’s head and presses his half hard dick inside. “Taste good?” Tony tries to shake his head, trying to get more of that dick down his throat. “Excellent. Lick it all, then I’ll fuck you.”_ _ _ _

____Tony’s eyes roll back, and it’s just him, Steve, and Steve’s cock again. He works hard, even though the angle makes it difficult and Steve doesn’t try to accommodate him. Tony uses his abdomens to scoot forward, trying to swallow deeper. He tastes oil, come, and sweat on Steve and it’s a lovely feeling to be used. For Steve to call him _darling_ and say he’s good. _ _ _ _

____Steve pulls away, squatting down to catch Tony’s eye. He smiles, pushes Tony’s hair back. “You're the type of man that cannot be discarded. You're too good for words, and I ain't a poet or nuthin' like an educated man of high society. But I do know one thing that's certain. I belong to you. It would do me justice if I'm permitted to have you, too." Steve kisses his temple, then fetches the key to unlock Tony’s hands._ _ _ _

____He grabs Tony, shifting his body up, arms gentle, and they’re like lovers about to waltz in the dance hall. Steve kicks the ottoman to the side, and they rock side by side, barefoot on the Persian rug. Tony rests his head on Steve’s chest, kisses his collarbone, and it’s so sweet, unlike the carnage of their frantic fucking. Steve rubs Tony’s arms, up and down, and sucks a bruise on his neck. The knowledge that it’ll be there tomorrow makes him smile._ _ _ _

____Steve settles them down on the rug and there’s no more feverish, quick wanting. It’s a simmer._ _ _ _

____There. Always._ _ _ _

____Tony opens his legs, admits Steve between them and they kiss. Tony pours in all the loss and grief of losing Steve. Almost losing him, yes, he’s back, but Tony didn’t know that. He mourned Steve all the same._ _ _ _

____He wraps his sore arms around Steve, pressing their lips together. Tony plants open mouthed kisses all over Steve’s jaw, and even though this isn’t the first time they’re having sex since Steve came back, Tony is still overwhelmed—with joy, with fear, with anguish that he knows lost, and what losing Steve might be like. His eyes sting. But he doesn’t mind the tears as they fall. He doesn’t feel pathetic in his misery, because he wants to show Steve this. “This is what you do to me, Rogers. You make me crazy.” Tony hides his head on Steve’s neck, nuzzling it. Steve smells like sweat, leather, and come. Tony licks at the space under his ear, earning a shudder from Steve._ _ _ _

____“It’s mutual.” Steve leans away, traces the tear tracks on Tony’s face. “You must know that.”_ _ _ _

____Tony surges up, kisses Steve, licking at his lips, feeling the slight stubble on Steve’s face. “You almost died, Steve, and I just got you back,” He sounds desperate, but he doesn’t care. He forces Steve back down, hugging him tightly. Tony lets the tears fall, letting out the sob that he’s tightly held to his chest. Steve hushes him, pressing kisses on his eyelids. “I thought you died. I’d never be able to live in this damned world without you.”_ _ _ _

____“When I pass, you must go on, Tony,” Steve breathes, rubbing their nose together. His eyes are wide, clear, eyelashes are streaked with wetness. “Promise me.”_ _ _ _

____“No, I’d sooner bury myself with you,” Tony says. This is the closest admission he’ll make rather than tell Steve he made a gun and set the muzzle on his temple. “Even if it means bleeding out and serving as a feast to swine.”_ _ _ _

____“You shouldn’t talk like that.”_ _ _ _

____“You took my heart with you in that pig's nest and never gave it back, Sheriff. But now I think you've had it before then.”_ _ _ _

____“Stark—Tony.” Steve rolls out the words like he’s still testing them. Nevermind that he’s moaned Tony’s name like a prayer before. Steve trails kisses down Tony’s body. He licks Tony’s collarbones, then sucks on both nipples, biting softly._ _ _ _

____“Steve, Steve, oh,” Tony pants, one hand going to stroke Steve’s hair. He pushes back a blond lock, smiling when Steve licks down the valley of his chest, then mouths at his belly button._ _ _ _

____“You’re too thin, Stark. I ought to feed you up more.”_ _ _ _

____“As long as you’re cooking,” Tony begins to tease, but the sound is cut off when Steve laps at his shaft. “Fuck, that’s wonderful. You’re amazing, Steve. You make me feel—” Tony cant’ describe it, so he doesn’t try to. Steve looks up at him, mouth filled with cock. He sucks on Tony’s head, savoring the wetness on the tip._ _ _ _

____“I make you hard, desperate. I ain’t waiting anymore. I think you’ve been patient long enough.” Steve pulls off, leans back, and arranges Tony’s legs apart. He grabs a cushion from the settee and puts it under Tony’s lower back, lifting his ass up. Steve takes the oil, circles Tony’s hole, and scissors him open._ _ _ _

____“I should be ready by now.”_ _ _ _

____Steve laughs, further parting Tony’s knees. “Look at that,” he observes Tony’s battered hole. He takes his fingers out, slicks his cock, and presses the head in. “God, look at you, take it. Take me. Take it, Tony. All for me.” Steve closes his eyes, sinking in until he’s fully seated._ _ _ _

____“Steve, fuck, move, come on, fuck me.” Tony grabs his neck, urging him forward. He only has to wait a minute before Steve’s thrusting in, the pace is unhurried. Steve keeps it slow, dragging his cock inside Tony. Pulling away to pop it out, only to slam back in._ _ _ _

____Steve keeps at the slow momentum, hitching Tony’s legs higher and wrapping it around his waist. Steve’s looking up at him, blue eyes serious and piercing. He has that determined slant on his face and he’s biting his lips and fucking hell, Tony loves this man the same way humans need the sun to survive. He’s nothing without him and he doesn’t know who he is, who he was before Steve came into his life._ _ _ _

____“I almost lost you,” Tony breathes, rubbing a hand on Steve’s jaw, thumbing at the space under his eyes._ _ _ _

____“You won’t lose me again, not if I can help it,” Steve says, and it sounds like a promise. He picks up the pace, putting one of Tony’s legs over his shoulder, and hell, the angle is much better._ _ _ _

____So much so that Tony’s reduced to a groaning mess. “Steve, Steve, Steve. Please, oh, Steve. Damn you, Sheriff, damn you.”_ _ _ _

____Tony meets Steve’s thrusts, canting his hips as Steve pulls away. They sync together, rocking in and out, and then, Steve’s circling his pelvis, impossibly going deeper and pressing his cock head to Tony’s prostate. Tony sobs, overcome with the pleasure, but also with the fact that Steve is alive. In the flesh, inside him. He’s crying again. He can’t help it. He stares into Steve, this beautiful, wonderful man, who could have seen the end too soon. Tony won’t let that happen. He tastes salt on his lips and he can’t tell if it’s the sweat or his tears. No matter, his vision tunnels to Steve, and there’s also a glimmer in his eyes. A wetness that proves that Tony isn’t alone in his emotions. He shifts up just as Steve slams in. Tony grabs Steve’s shoulders and kisses him with all his might, everything he has, he pours it into Steve, hoping like hell that this man understands what Tony is trying to say._ _ _ _

____Steve steadies himself on his knees, snagging a hand between them, then he’s fisting Tony’s cock. Twisting the head the way Tony likes, squeezing hard on base, then thumbing the slit. “I’m coming, coming, I’m close.”_ _ _ _

____“Come for me, Tony,” Steve whispers, putting his back into the thrusts. “Come on, let me feel you clench around me.”_ _ _ _

____Tony’s toes curl, and he stops kissing Steve, too focused on Steve inside him, Steve playing with his cock. Steve, Steve, Steve. His belly feels warm and Steve’s balls are slamming at that space between his legs, and—_ _ _ _

____“Oh, fuck,” Tony groans, mouthing at Steve. He comes; the feeling is a relief. Steve catches his lips, kisses him until Tony’s back hits the carpet once more, then he’s fucking hard, fast, and deep._ _ _ _

____Once, twice, then, Steve’s coming inside him. “Fuck, look at you, Tony.” Steve falls forward, kissing Tony’s chest. He pushes his cock in, valiantly, and despite just coming, it’s still half-hard._ _ _ _

____Their harsh breaths echo in the room. Steve cuddles closer, draping his body over Tony’s. He flicks and nips at Tony’s nipples. Tony’s lost in that happy moment after coming. He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, humming the tune to Danny Boy._ _ _ _

____“I was being an honest man.”_ _ _ _

____Steve pauses his ministrations and gets up on his elbows to stare down at Tony, “What do you mean?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t wanna live without you.” Tony kisses Steve’s bicep. The words come easy. There are things that are still difficult to say sober, but Steve’s too honest with him. He might as well try to give him the same justice. “That you’re amazing. That when I thought I lost you, it was like having shrapnel in my heart.”_ _ _ _

____Steve smiles, and it’s dazzling. “Darling, the sight of the sun rising from the Savage Mountain is nothing compared to you.” He knows Tony is being serious, but then he just laughs, then leans to kiss the space between Tony’s brows. Even when he held the gun there, the act was gentle. “You don’t have to live without me. I’m here. Yours.”_ _ _ _

____“I like that.” Tony tries to smirk, but he knows it is a failed attempt because his eyes hurt again, and his vision of Steve is getting muddled by the force of his tears. “Stay. Never leave.”_ _ _ _

____“I won’t, Tony.” Steve takes him into his arms, until they’re a hugging, crying mess on the floor._ _ _ _

____Steve hushes him, tells him tales from the Savage Mountain and his life in the Army before settling in Timely. He talks about his childhood, his late mother, and the sort of mess he and Barnes got up to as children. By then, Tony’s still teary, but he’s no longer sobbing. He holds onto Steve tightly, pillowed on his chest._ _ _ _

____After lying for a while, Steve crosses the room, pours out fresh water from the blue pitcher. It has a lovely depiction of an angel and a devil standing side by side. Tony catches himself looking at the motif, wondering who is life and who is death. It’s easy to pin the sins of man on the devil. But an angel isn’t a bringer of life; they’re also chained to the command of a god. Maybe Tony isn’t any different from an angel then. He’d chain himself to Steve, but only as long as the devil keeps breathing life into him._ _ _ _

____Returning with a mug, Steve sets it down and arranges Tony on the settee. He reaches for the mug, tilts Tony’s lips, and in a soft voice, so different from the command of telling Tony to open his whore mouth to get fucked.  
“Drink up.”_ _ _ _

____Tony’s eyes are heavy and they sting from the force of his tears. He twists his head, looks at Steve looming above him, and drinks. The cool water eases the heat in his belly. It deserves a much needed respite. He drinks as much as he can, sloppily, wishing that the water doesn’t have to wash away the taste of Steve in his mouth. Satisfied, Stve takes the mug and lies back down, bringing Tony back to his chest._ _ _ _

____They fall in and out of sleep. Steve wakes him up with his mouth on Tony’s cock. Once he’s hard again, Steve slicks both of their cocks, jerking them until the spill. After they catch their breaths, Tony kisse Steve, rises and sits on his desk, legs crossed._ _ _ _

____Steve sighs as Tony grabs some tobacco from his stash, rolling the leaves on his fingertips. He doesn’t approve of the habit, but Tony’s just beat the bottle, he had to do something with his mouth. He couldn’t very well suck Steve’s cock all day. Besides, Steve smokes too, he just doesn’t like to smoke every time the clock strikes. He prefers it with coffee in the morning and after dinner. Tony, would prefer to smoke to keep his brain occupied._ _ _ _

____Tony presses the tobacco down with a tamper before packing it again. He repeats it once again, humming, still soft and languid from coming. Tony lights the pipe and inhales. He’ll need to get the same blend from Wong’s by the end of the week._ _ _ _

____He looks at Steve, naked on the Persian rug. He looks lovely, with all that Irish skin against the bold red colors of the rug and its geometric patterns. Steve’s eyes are shut and he’s scratching the path of blond fuzz on his stomach. His cock is spent after coming as many times as he did. It lies nested on the blond curls._ _ _ _

____Out of both of them, Steve’s the artist, taking his time to draw on scraps of papers, the corners of newspapers, and sometimes, when he’s feeling rebellious, on the back of unfiled reports. If Tony is to draw Steve, he might look like a burst of colors, wrapped up in some semblance of red, white, and blue, but smudged in pale hues. Tony would name it love, because his mind can only come up with trite words when it comes to Steve Rogers._ _ _ _

____Blond curls, matted blond hair, on a blood red rug, it gives Tony ideas, as in, he’ll wake up tomorrow and paint the suit red and gold, just because well, there’s Steve, lying down naked, and the sight inspires him._ _ _ _

____"You fancy a swim in the river tomorrow? I hear now that we've re-opened the dam, the waters clear. Better than they've been."_ _ _ _

____“I sure am glad to hear that the course of the waters is running through Red Wolf’s community.” Steve smiles, eyes still closed. “"We'll get to this town to shape, institute some sort of peacekeeping with the tribes, ensure they've got everything they need, and let them know that we're here, if they need anything."_ _ _ _

____“We?”_ _ _ _

____“Of course. I’m better with you watching my back.”_ _ _ _

____"You say things like that and leave me speechless." Tony takes another puff then settles the pipe on the saucer. He traces the carvings on the pipe, mind whirling on what weapon to make for Steve. Somehow, a revolver works, but a gun is made to kill, not necessarily disarm. Steve’s wielded barrels and wooden crates in defense. Only if Tony could build something to that effect. Something that he could both use for defense and offense, throw, not to decapitate, but to prevent, or disarm. Something to throw then, what...a shield? Something heavy, made of sturdy material...perhaps, vibranium?_ _ _ _

____Steve sits up, unabashed in his nakedness. “Somehow, I’ve been told that’s a feat only I can do.” He wiggles his fingers for the pipe._ _ _ _

____Tony indulges him with a raised eyebrow. He packs it, then crawls on all fours to Steve in the middle of the carpet. He presses the pipe to Steve’s awaiting lips, then pulls it away, drops a filthy kiss that leaves both their mouths slick with saliva._ _ _ _

____“I never did shut up when I thought you were dead. Kept the townsfolk up late into the night, hammering away and cursing Fisk and Roxxon.” Tony puts the pipe on Steve’s lips, lights it with a set of matches from the coffee table._ _ _ _

____Steve smiles, blowing smoke to the side of their faces. “I’m sorry you had mourned me, but the knowledge that you did, pleases me. I suppose you deem me important, then? This ain’t just a roll in the hay, no matter what you’ve said before.”_ _ _ _

____“Don't believe everything I say.” Tony takes a drag, then shotguns the smoke into Steve’s open mouth. “This is everything and more, you stubborn ass, you should know that.”_ _ _ _

____Steve laughs, the sound light, airy. “I do know. But I like to hear it.”_ _ _ _

____“Fishing for compliments? Go to the rivers and get yourself some trout there, instead. Then, make me dinner. I’d prefer it with vegetables from the Parker Farm.”_ _ _ _

____“We can go fishing tomorrow, in the lake, as you suggested.” Steve grabs the pipe from Tony’s hands, sets it down, and pulls Tony to his lap. “Me and you, Stark. I’m serious, we could do some real good things not just for Timely, but the frontier.”_ _ _ _

____“You don't have to sweet talk me, Steve, you already got inside. Anywhere you go, I’ll follow.”_ _ _ _

____“Then _you_ say things like that.” Steve intertwines their fingers, kisses the scars on the back of Tony’s hands. “It’s love, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, what else would it be?” Tony shifts, straddles Steve’s hips, then pushes him back down to the rug. “You truly look good like this, Rogers. A golden halo in this tangled mess of a world. You look like your mine.”_ _ _ _

____“I am.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re not leaving me?”_ _ _ _

____“No.” Steve pauses, carresassing Tony’s arms, rocking their limbs awake, slow, slow, thrusts. “Not if I could help it.”_ _ _ _

____Tony settles his weight on Steve, content to be the one looming over him, for once. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this man. Assuming his death proved that. _Pick up a hammer, even if it means eating your own words,_ Tony thinks. Avenge him. He has purpose now. _ _ _ _

____He looks at Steve, all honest and languid under him, and Tony’s heart leaps. He can have this. He has this. His thoughts explode with visions of horror, of the possibility that this thing between them might end in a nightmare. They both have many personalities and a stubborn will to live in the same town if this goes South._ _ _ _

____“Stop thinking.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m always thinking,” Tony replies and flicks Steve’s dusty pink nipple. He bends down licks it, then bites, as Steve grabs his hair and pulls. Hard. “Are you going to change that, Mr. Rogers? Turn me inside out, remake me into a better man?”_ _ _ _

____“Is it a sin to wish the best for you?”_ _ _ _

____“And you think you know what that is?” Tony laughs, teasing, despite the heavy shift in the conversation._ _ _ _

____“I do.” Steve nods. “I think I can make you happy for the rest of your life. If you let me.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t need to ask permission, Sheriff.” Tony grins, crashing their mouths together, and they kiss. It goes on, and on and on._ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are loved. 
> 
> I am on  Tumblr  and on discord as resurrectedhippo#8509.  
>   
> [If you like dark, psychological horror, and heart-pulverizing angst fics, please check out this Sad Secret Santa event. ](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Stonys_Sad_Secret_Santa)  
>   
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